Secrets
by Amelia Friend
Summary: Well, technically he didn't lie. He just didn't tell the entire truth either. Reid/OC.
1. Taking It Hard

**This is my first Criminal Minds fanfiction - Hope you enjoy it.**

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They had felt a step behind the entire time, finding the bodies of the third and fourth victims while they were in the city, and mere minutes away from the police station.

But they found him, just as they always did, a man named Harold Jenkins, whose ten year old red headed daughter had died in her sleep three days before the first kidnapping.

And, not only that, but they found him in time to save the life of his fifth, and fortunately final, victim – a nine year old little girl named Melody Williams.

It was the best outcome they could have hoped for considering the possible that could, and usually do, occur in many cases of this style.

But, despite his best and most valiant efforts to hide it, something had been off with their resident doctor the entire trip – the case, while all child cases take a toll on the members of the BAU (even when they manage to save one), the death of something so ... so innocent, always hitting every single one of them hard – he had seemed to take it on personally, and it hurt the team to see something fold slightly inside of him every day, and not to be able to do anything about it.

Morgan had tried to talk to him.

JJ had tried to talk to him.

Garcia had tried to talk to him.

Emily had tried to talk to him.

Even Hotch and Rossi tried to find out what bothered him so much about this case.

But he didn't open up to anyone, and just continued to work himself to the point of exhaustion, and Hotch having to almost physically drag him away from the work and to his hotel room for some sleep.

They arrived back in Virginia almost five hours later, having finished everything that needed to be done at the Police Department, and booked out of their hotel, not to mention the three and a half hour ride on the Jet, and everyone was tired – even if it was only six in the evening – but they all sat down to do their paperwork anyway, liking to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

Reid finished his paperwork in record time, even by his own standards, though not a single smile had yet graced his face, instead he appeared almost apathetic, leaving the moment his work was finished with barely a glance back at the team, and not a single word spoken.

It was Hotch who left next, having promised Jack he would be back soon, with a muttered 'goodbye' as he left for his son, and his home.

JJ followed shortly afterwards for similar reasons, wishing to see her son again after only being able to speak to him over a phone for a week, she waved goodbye to Emily as she passed the brunette's desk.

Surprising even herself, Emily managed to actually finish before both Morgan and Rossi.

Or maybe it wasn't that surprising, as Morgan had more than usual to do since he could not manage to pawn any of his files off on Reid before the younger man left, and Rossi simply had nowhere else he needed, or wanted, to be – the BAU gave him a purpose that couldn't be found in a too large, too expensive, too empty house.

Saying her goodbyes to the two Agents, she descended in the elevator, blinking a few times to get rid of the sleep rapidly forming in them.

Shivering slightly as she left the relative warmth of the FBI headquarters, and ventured towards her car, wishing it wasn't so well camouflaged amongst the inky blackness of the already come evening.

Finally finding her own car, she gratefully climbed in and started the heating, warming her almost red hands from the freezing night air.

She gently pressed her foot down, she smiled slightly, grateful for a night in her own bed.

Five minutes into the journey, however, Emily frowned, realising that while she had been driving on auto-pilot, she had driven in the opposite direction to her apartment (and most importantly, her bed), and towards the area she knew Reid lived in.

Emily groaned – her subconscious was telling something, and now she had to see him or she'd feel guilty until she saw him again, even if there nothing to feel guilty over.

Thinking back, Emily realised that she had never actually been around to Reid's home, nor had any member of the team – that she knew of anyway – in fact, Emily only knew where it was because she had accidently glanced at the address when he was filling a form to say he was moving home almost three years ago now. She had jotted it down and stored it in her desk, as she did possess Reid's almost scarily encyclopaedic memory, though now it seems that she did remember the address that she had barely thought of in a long while.

It was only when she was less than three streets from Reid's home that she realised that these weren't apartment for single adults, but large family homes intended for, well ... families.

Emily frowned, wondering why Reid needed such a large home, as she pulled up in front of it – a two storey building, that from the outside, appeared to have at least four bedrooms, and a large well kept garden at both the front and back – a house suited for a family.

Walking up to the wood clad home, Emily noticed that the television was on – the light seeping around the edges of the tightly drawn curtains – and though she could hear it, sort of, she couldn't tell what was being watched.

She knocked on the door, and could hear laughter floating through the door – the laughter of a young woman – and the movement of a slightly clumsy being, before Reid opened the door, a slight smile on his lips, that reduced in size slightly when he saw who was at his door.

"Emily?" Reid sounded confused, but at least he was speaking now, and despite being less than an hour since she had last seen him, he looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. "What are you doing here?" The second question wasn't accusatory, but it was infused with genuine curiosity.

"You got out of the office really quickly today, and you've been acting weird all week. What's wrong?" Her voice was soft and full of concern for her friend, despite her tiredness that was fading with each passing second.

"I thought we weren't supposed to profile each other." His tone was almost harsh, but it was belied by an all too real sadness in his eyes, that would be unnoticeable if you were not looking for it as she was.

"I'm _not_ profiling you, and just want to know why this case hit you harder than any of the other child cases we've had. What was it about this case that hurt you so much?"

He opened his mouth to speak, already to turn back into his house and shut the door on her until the next time he was needed in work, when a voice, far too young and high to be his, spoke.

"Da_dddyyyy_!"

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**Thank you for reading, please review,  
Mia**


	2. An AlmostExplanation

**Can you believe that only three months ago, I'd never even heard of Criminal Minds, then I happened to watch one episode (The one where Ellie runs away from LA or something), and only two days later - Sky Living began airing them, two or three a day, in order from the very beginning, and I fell irrevocably in love with the program.**

**Slightly longer chapter, this one. Hope you enjoy.**

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_"I'm _not _profiling you, and just want to know why this case hit you harder than any of the other child cases we've had. What was it about this case that hurt you so much?"_

_He opened his mouth to speak, already to turn back into his house and shut the door on her until the next time he was needed in work, when a voice, far too young and high to be his, spoke._

_"Dad_ddyyyy_!_"

* * *

She looked no more than ten years old, if that, with shoulder length straight red hair that came just past her shoulders, green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her clothes were simple, a pair of dark blue jeans and a green top that matched her eyes, with the words "Without me, it's just aweso" sprawled in a deep pink across the front – and there was something about her that was almost familiar ... Melody Williams.

She could be mistaken for her twin.

Suddenly Reid's behaviour made sense to Emily, every time he had had to look at those photos of the dead little girls; he had seen his own little girl.

"Daddy, you left. I was ..." The small girl started scold her father, the same way she heard her mother do so often, when she caught sight of Emily.

She shut up quickly as a red flush covered her face as her mouth became "O" shaped.

Reid smiled slightly, "_Now_, you shut up." The small girl hit the back of her father's legs with the back of her hand as she hid behind him.

"Daddy," she whispered, her voice barely audible, peeking her head out from behind him slightly to stare at Emily, "there's a lady."

Reid held back a smile at his daughter's antics. "This is Emily; she works at the FBI with me."

"Oh," she whispered again, her voice barely louder than a faint wind. "Hi, miss Emily," she muttered, a little louder, but not quite catching her eyes.

Emily crouched down slightly to her level. "It's just Emily, not miss Emily. What's your name?"

"Lissa, Just Emily," she replied louder still but still far quieter than she had been, the red blush starting to reduce back to her natural pale skin tone, with a grin forming on her face.

Emily shook her head slowly, straightening up and facing Reid, with an eyebrow arched. "Lissa?" she questioned.

"Melissa Jane Turner-Reid." Spencer clarified. "and as for your new nickname, she's never going to let you forget it."

"Are you going to come in the house, Just Emily?" The small girl asked her, her voice almost back to its usual volume, as she reached out her hand to grab the elder woman's, dragging her into the home before she even had a chance to answer.

Pulling her through the front hallway, Melissa stopped by a photo on the wall, with a beautiful frosted glass vase filled with white and purple flowers in front of it – the photo showed a group of girls with ages ranged from about three to thirteen.

"Do you like the flowers?" She asked, shy and slightly fidgety once again.

"They're beautiful," Emily answered honestly, touching one of the flowers delicately.

"I helped mummy pick them out." She told Emily matter of factly. "Do you know a lot about flowers - because I do. The one you're touching is called Purple Statice, or 'Limonium Aureum'. Then this one's Purple Hyacinth and that's White Hyacinth, but they're both also known as 'Hyacinthus Orientalis'. I think. And this last one is Blue Lilac, or in Latin 'Syringa Vulgaris'. Did you know that using giving specific flowers certain meaning, or Floriography, has been found as far back as the Ancient Romans and Gre..."

"Why don't you go and see if your mum needs help in the kitchen Lissa." Reid interrupted before the small girl started going _too_ in depth about the flowers. She blushed and disappeared around the corner, presumably to find her mother.

Emily turned to the younger genius and smiled a bit tightly. "Well, there's no doubt she's your daughter." There was a short pause that neither of them felt inclined to break. "Why... why didn't you tell anyone?" Emily broke first. "That you have a daughter, I mean." Her tone belied her confusion as to _why_ he didn't trust them.

Reid frowned slightly, thinking. "At first, it was because I needed to separate home and work as much as possible, pretending my family didn't exist at work, and pretending work didn't exist at home. And now ... I don't know how to tell anyone. How could I tell anyone – just walk into work one day and say 'Did I mention I have a wife and a nine year old daughter?'. I don't imagine that going down too well with any of them."

"Wife?" She shook her head as to rid it of an annoying noise, "Does _anyone_ know then? Anyone at the FBI, I mean?"

"You know," he replied quickly, "and Gideon ... Gideon knew. He met them once, when Lissa was just a few months old, and I was starting the Academy." It was still hard for him to mention his old mentor, his almost-father. "No one else knows, because no one else thought it could ever be. I'm the last person anyone would pin as a father, as a husband." His voice trailed off, and they just stood in silence once again.

It was a new voice that broke it the second time. "You gonna come into the actual house? I don't pay to heat the entire street." The woman's voice was soft, and there was a smile in her words despite what could be implied as harsh words – and shifting her gaze from Reid, Emily found herself looking at an elder version of Melissa, albeit with wavier hair than her daughter's, which reached her mid-back, and her eyes were a clear blue as opposed to Lissa's green, or Reid's hazel brown. She wore a pale blue knee-length dress, with a creamy white cloth apron over the top, with the words "No one eats until this comes off" written in pink across the top, and number of stains in varying shades of brown across the lower half.

She held out a hand for Emily to shake, and started talking, "Judging by your hair colour, I'm going to guess that you're Emily. I'm Rosalind, but I prefer Rosie. The only person who calls me Rosalind is _him_," she jerked her head at Spencer, "and that's only when I've done something stupid."

"Like burn the house down?" Reid inputted.

Rosie glared at him, "That was one time – and it was an accident. You _promised_ never to bring it up again. And that was like three bringings up ago."

"Your accent..." Questioned Emily, in regards to Rosie's almost sing-song voice.

"Oh, Welsh – strange, I know – I only lived there for seven years, and here for twenty two, but it seems I like the Welsh voice better, so I kept it."

Another question was on Emily's lips when a sharp yap suddenly came from up the stairs, and startled Rosie into jumping slightly. "She does that at least seven times an hour. How can it still startle you?" Reid asked with a chuckle.

"I'm special." She replied firmly, "Now you need to feed Megathy or I won't feed you."

Rosie smiled as Spencer disappeared, "Megathy?" Emily questioned, amused at the name.

Rosie grimaced. "Word to the wise, never let a seven year old name anything living. She's our two year old tri-colour Border Collie, almost as insane as me."

The red headed woman glanced through the window in the front door to Emily's car outside, "Have you eaten yet this evening, because I've made about twice the amount I need to."

"No, it's okay. I don't want to impose."

"You _won't_ be imposing. Besides it's fun to watch Spencer get all flustered after asking him awkward questions such as, 'Why didn't you tell anybody you had a kid?'. Anyway, I think you're Lissa's new best friend, so you can't leave now."

"He's different here." Emily remarked quietly as Rosie led the way the kitchen dining room.

"Who is? Spencer?"

"Yeah, he's older, yet younger at the same time. And he seems happier."

"I think that might have something to do with the fact that there are no serial killers here as opposed to anything I've specifically done."

"How long have you known him? Spencer, I mean, of course."

"We've been together for about seven years, but I've known him for quite a bit longer than that"

"Only seven? But your daughter..."

"Is nine yes, but she the biological daughter of one our old best friends, who died only fifteen hours after Lissa was born – we're the only parents she's ever known. Anyway, why did you want to know how long we've been together?"

"The two of you are so similar you could almost be passed off as siblings, not in looks, but in every other way. I thought it would have been longer than that."

Rosie snorted loudly, "You know what they say, live with someone long enough and ... I half expect to wake up one morning and find him speaking in a Welsh accent. But we're not related, by blood or by the marriage of anyone in past generations that I know of, but he is my brother – in a non-weird, non-incest ... I'm going to stop talking now," she finished with, having ended up a bright red colour.

Rosie shook her head slightly to rid it of the thought as they walked into the kitchen, Lissa giggling as Spencer performed magic tricks for her. "I thought I told you to feed the dog, Spencer."

"I fed Meggy, mummy."

"Brilliant sweetheart, but I asked your daddy to do it. But can you pull another chair up for Emily to sit at the table too."

"She can sit in my seat," the small girl nearly yelled, pulling the brunette woman and pushing her down – meaning well – into the seat before pulling up another for herself.

Spencer pulled Rosie into his arms, and brushed a strand of red away from her face, "Have I told you..."

Melissa looked up from the tale she was regaling to Emily about flowers and butterflies, and spoke quickly. "Don't turn around," she muttered in a hushed voice.

"Why not?" Emily asked, already beginning to turn around.

Melissa grabbed her wrist stopping her. "Daddy's your friend, right?" Emily nodded. "Then don't look. There are some images you really don't need in your head, just because mummy and daddy sometimes forget they're not the only people in the world."

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**Purple Statice means 'I miss you'. Purple Hyacinth means 'I'm sorry'. White Hyacinth means 'I love you'. Blue Lilac means 'Innocence'. Or at least according to the internet they do anyway. And I hope I got the scientific names right. If not – blame the internet, and please correct me so I can change it. And it will have some significance later in the story. Probably.**

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**Thank you for reading, and please review,  
Mia**


	3. Betty's Coffee Shop

**Sorry about the delay, just gone back to school - and everything is really hectic. I have a sort of proper plot now, so I should update quicker this time.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

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Waking up at the shrill ring of his phone, he answered it before it managed to wake his Rosie, speaking in a hushed tone to JJ, who had called him in about a development in the case they had started only the previous morning, which he managed to pass off as merely sleep-filled.

"'Pensa?" A quiet voice broke the new silence of the room, as he hung up and tried to get quickly dressed in the almost dark – though the devil red letters of the clock glared at him accusingly – 6:24, far too early for any reasonable person to be up.

"Go back to sleep Rosie, it's too early to get up." Spencer told her, stroking her hair off of her face as he did so.

"Kay," she replied, her voice still quiet, as she rolled onto her side facing away from him, her soon steady breathing telling him she had fallen asleep again.

Pressing a kiss onto her forehead, as he left a flask of boiling hot black coffee and a quickly scrawled note telling her where he was going, as if she didn't know already.

He looked in on at his still sleeping daughter in the next room as struggled to put on his socks, a smile gracing his face almost unbidden, as he watched her just breathe.

* * *

Arriving in Quantico all of about fifteen minutes later, he was happy to note he was not the last one in, although it was only Emily who arrived after him.

It wasn't a particularly difficult case, not that it made much difference in finding the Unsub, a man had been kidnapping hard-working brunette women in their early forties, then, over the course of a day or two, shooting each one of her joints, and leaving her to slowly bleed out.

* * *

For four hours they had run into dead end after dead end, each member stressed as they knew the Unsub had a new victim who had a matter of hours to live if they did not find out where she was, which they couldn't do without the name of the Unsub.

"I've got a name," an almost-shout from Emily drew their attention. "Randy Gorrows, forty nine years old, his wife left him with their daughter exactly two weeks ago."

"That's only two days before the first kidnapping."

"And would you like to guess what Mrs Gorrows looks like?" Emily asked rhetorically, pulling up a picture of brunette woman in her early forties.

"Find him Garcia," Hotch ordered, to which she only nodded in response, already concentrating on her computers.

* * *

"Police patrol car has him in their sights," Morgan called up to Hotch, and they all immediate headed out to the cars.

* * *

The six of them were in two SUVs, and all except the drivers, being Hotch and Morgan, had already strapped their bullet proof vests on, expecting Gorrows to try and shoot his way out of the situation.

"Don't let him out of your sight," Spencer heard Hotch command over the radio to the police car that had spotted their suspect.

* * *

They must have thought he was stupid – those two idiot cops in that big white car that had been following him for almost a mile, quickening his pace only slightly, he came across a small alleyway lined with only a few non-descript shops, and almost too narrow for a car to easily follow down.

Then he saw it.

His way out.

It was called "Betty's Coffee Shop", and the outside seemed almost bland, decorated an almost beige colour.

But that didn't matter, not really.

Walking into the inconspicuous coffee shop, he noticed that there were only about seven people in there – not including him – the twenty-something year old girl who was serving the customers, a teenaged couple completely wrapped up in each other, two business style men sat on opposite ends of the small shop – occasionally glaring at each other, and a red headed pair who appeared to be mother and young daughter talking and laughing with each other about something he couldn't hear. There was a nice atmosphere, a normal atmosphere about the place. Well, that was about to change.

Pulling out the small silver piece of metal from his pocket that he had killed four women with, he hesitated for only a moment, before firing two shots into the ceiling.

Someone screamed and then everything fell silent.

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_**That morning.**_

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The first thing Rosie noticed that morning was that her Spencer was no longer asleep next to her, though there was a still warm flask of black coffee, and a note from him in his usual large sprawling writing.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, and taking a large gulp of her coffee to wake herself up, she glanced at the large red letters that stated very clearly that it was just before seven in the morning. Picking up her husband's note, she read it twice through then placed it lovingly in the box within her bedside table where at least a couple of hundred of similar notes she had cumulated over the years lived.

Pulling herself out of the warm duvet covers she turned to look at the doorway, almost shrieking when she noticed a figure blocking the lower part. She let out a breath. "Lissa? You scared me." When the small girl didn't move, Rosie widened her arms and beckoned her young daughter.

"I don't feel very well mummy," she mumbled into her mother's side after finally reaching it.

Pressing the back of her hand to Lissa's forehead, she noted that it was, in fact, very warm, not life threatening, but not suitable for going to school. "Oh, come here baby," she muttered into her daughter's hair as she pulled her into a hug. "Even if you're not going to school today, you still need to get dressed, as I need to go shopping. Can you come with me?"

Rosie felt rather than saw the little girl's nod, but she pushed her away anyway, "Off you go then, get dressed and then come downstairs." As she retreated out of her mother's bedroom, Rosie called after her daughter, "And if you're going to throw up, please try and do it in the toilet or the bin, not the sink."

A non-committal grunt came from the hallway, and Rosie assumed that that meant that her daughter understood.

* * *

Just over five hours had passed since then, putting the time at just after twelve, and Rosie had been dragging Lissa around shop after shop for almost three and a half hours, and, unsurprisingly, the nine year olds feet were starting to drag, she had less energy than usual but three hours of shopping would have tired her out anyway.

Rosie began looking around for somewhere new to eat that was relatively healthy but wouldn't have her spending a small fortune.

She was just about to give up and take them to McDonald's just around the corner when she spotted a small shop was called "Betty's Coffee Shop", which appeared to serve a large selection of sandwiches and drinks that would suit the appetite and re-awaken both the small girl and her mother, who was actually equally tired after a couple hours of shopping, that would have exhausted her even without Lissa.

They had just received their food, a tuna mayonnaise sandwich and milk for Lissa, and a Coronation Chicken sandwich with a large black coffee for Rosie.

When Rosie's attention was temporarily snatched by a slight commotion outside, Lissa took the opportunity to try some of her mother's drink, spluttering almost immediately and gulping down a couple of large mouthfuls of her milk, as Rosie began to laugh at her, even while wiping away the dregs of coffee from the corner's of Lissa's mouth.

* * *

Two gun shots rattled the room, and Lissa screamed involuntarily, jumping towards her mother, before everything went silent.

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**Thank you for reading, please review,  
Mia**


	4. New Information

**Sorry it's so short, had a hard time writing this chapter. Hope you enjoy.**

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_Two gun shots rattled the room, and Lissa screamed involuntarily, jumping towards her mother, before everything went silent._

* * *

An hour had passed since the initial two gunshots, since which point neither of the two parties on either side of the glass only two centimetres thick had had any contact with each other.

That didn't mean that the tensions weren't mounting however, it was just the opposite – the FBI and SWAT just metres away didn't want to storm the building for fear of killing hostages in the cross fire, and with the blinds shut, they couldn't just shoot him through the window – and Gorrows understood that with each passing second his chance of survival was decreasing, so he couldn't just _leave_, he'd be shot on the spot.

His face was drawn and pale, and there was sheen of sweat clearly formed across his forehead as the stress got to the middle aged man, and the perfectly polished silver gun in his hand, which was trained on the seven hostages huddled at the back of the room, got even heavier in his slippery hands.

* * *

As that terrifying silver piece of metal was aimed back at her, though not (it seemed) intentionally as the slightly deranged man appeared to be pointing it randomly, Rosie screwed her eyes, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to protect her daughter – the daughter currently curled in her lap, shaking with almost-hidden hysterics, her hands clamped firmly over her ears, and her face buried deeply into her mother's chest – trying to block out the world, and the unnamed man keeping them hostage at gun point.

She glanced around at her fellow hostages, not a profiler in the same level as her Spencer, but having lived with him since they were both around twelve years old and starting university for the first time, she had picked up more than a few of his habits and abilities.

The nice young woman who had been working on the till had silent tears streaming down her face, though it was hidden behind her arms currently wrapped around her upper body, it didn't take a professional profiler to realise she was terrified. The two business men's faces were stoic, refusing to allow emotion to show, else their barrier would break down and they would burst into tears as well, although they were still sat as far away from each other as possible, something the redheaded mother thought was weird considering their position. And the teenagers were just holding each other, as if anchoring the other to the world, and though it didn't look like either of them were outright crying, the young girl's face was deeply buried into the shoulder of the man who was obviously her boyfriend, in a similar manner to Lissa, as if she too was blocking out the world, or at least attempting to.

And finally, Rosie herself (as long as the gun was pointed at someone other than herself and her still a baby daughter) kept her face perfectly, having to stay strong outwardly for her daughter, though internally, she just wanted to scream for her Spencer.

She wondered what he was doing. Whether he knew what was happening to them. If anyone knew if they were in here.

As Lissa let out another little whimper, muffled through her mother's clothing, the man with a gun stopped what appeared to be a conversation with himself to train his gun on the nine year old.

"Shut her up, or I will do it for you," he all but growled at the young mother, the first words she had actually heard him say.

As she rocked her daughter the way she did while she was still a newborn, Rosie thought back on his voice. For though the words were harsh, his voice was ... hurt, and lost.

Rosie almost smiled on the inside. He _deserved_ to be hurt. He would hurt them. But then again, if he didn't have anything to lose, what would stop him from just shooting all of them.

Rosie tightened her grip on the small girl, as she altered her position slightly, moving her daughter as far away from the mad man as possible.

She wasn't going to let _anything_ happen to her baby girl.

* * *

"Garcia, you got an I.D on the hostages yet?" Morgan and Emily crowded around the small phone that led back to the one and only Penelope Garcia.

"Morgan, there's only one camera in the building and the seventies want it back. It's difficult to get accurate facial recognition from it. However I _am_ a genius so..." Her voice trailed only to re-appear a minute and a half later, "Told you I was a genius, okay, the two teenagers are Katherine Barker and Callum Waters, both of whom are supposed to currently be at school, cashier is Rachel Wells, got her driving license and not much else, the two men in suits are Alan Jackson and Toby Avery, and red head mother and daughter are ... oh, my god." She just stopped talking.

"What is it Garcia?" Morgan's voice was joking-ly annoyed with the tech.

"Is the resident genius within earshot?" Garcia's normally bubbly voice was almost flat.

"No. Why?" He was truly confused, but Emily's face tightened as she considered the worst outcome.

"The mother and daughter are Rosalind and Melissa Reid."

"It's a fairly common surname, Baby Girl."

But his voice lost its firmness when he noticed Emily's face rapidly paling, and glancing towards Reid, who was maybe five metres away, talking rapidly with Hotch and Rossi.

It had been four months since she stumbled upon Spencer's 'other' life, but she kept in regular contact with Rosie, and Lissa had only recently stopped calling her 'Just' and she was now simply 'Emily' to the little girl.

"No, I've found a marriage certificate and an adoption certificate."

"What do you mean?" Morgan's voice was tight, having put the pieces together by himself easily enough, but needing spoken confirmation of his fears.

"Reid's wife and daughter are in that building. And he doesn't even know."

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**Thank you for reading, and please review - I want to try and get up to seventeen reviews for this chapter (that's only four more)  
Mia**


	5. Hidden Fear

**Sorry that it's been so long again between updates. Hope you enjoy this one though.**

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Nothing changed.  
No time passed.  
Yet, the entire world had changed.

Rosie's hand didn't still, even for a fraction of a moment, continually stroking her daughters hair – serving the dual purpose of both keeping Melissa calm (although considering they were being held hostage at gunpoint by some _absolute_ madman, losing her calm seemed a fairly rational course for any nine year old little girl to take) and herself calm, the gesture reminding Rosie that Melissa was still here, was still okay, that nothing had happened to her – and her clear eyes never left the small silver piece of metal, nor the man holding it in his slippery grip.

The silence was stifling, but it was better than the sound of gun fire, the sound of which she personally never wanted to hear, _ever_ again.  
But then, the silence _was_ broken – a sharp ring; one, two three times, and eight pairs of eyes (the seven hostages and the mad man) turned swiftly to look at the source of the noise.

The telephone.

It was fairly bland and green plastic, which had previously been stood idly besides the till, and had remained unnoticed until this point.  
Not that it could remain ignored any longer.

The man walked quickly over to the telephone, his steps just light enough to be avoid being the footsteps a teenager in a temper tantrum would take.  
Lifting the receiver, he pressed it to his ear.  
"Who is this?" He demanded, his voice tense, he had no delusions about the fact that unless he was _extremely_ lucky, this encounter would likely end in his death, in one way or another – and it was all that _bitch_ of an ex-wife's fault.

For close to twenty seconds he stood motionless, with his gun pointed at the hostages although Rosie was somewhat (ashamedly) thankful that it seemed to point more towards the two business men, than herself and her daughter.

"Get rid of the SWAT, and _maybe_ we can talk," the man spoke, and (from looking at the sickly pallor of his face) clearly with more confidence than he felt.

Rosie didn't know what the voice (which, from the faint undecipherable snippets she could hear, she guessed was male) on the other end of the line was saying, but from the way his face screwed up in anger and his finger twitched against the trigger of his gun (causing the hostages to try and force their way through the wall, they were pressed up against it so fiercely) – she could easily guess that it wasn't good news, for him at least.

She wasn't sure if she should be pleased or not by that fact.

But when he all but threw the phone onto the counter top, allowing it to bounce and fall off the fake marble work surface, and stormed with a terrifying expression over to the hostages, Rosie knew she definitely _shouldn't_ be pleased by something that annoyed him, especially when he had the power to kill all of them.

His eyes glanced over all the hostages, before settling on Melissa, he grabbed her hair, yanking her upwards from her mother's grip – a cry of pain following unbidden from her lips, as new tears formed in her eyes.

Rosie didn't even think, she just lunged towards the madman, almost unaware of his gun, until he swung it around and pointed it so the barrel rested almost perfectly between her eyes.

"Move and I shoot you all." He growled – his face serious.

He didn't move the gun away from the six hostages, as he pushed the small girl towards to the door.

And Rosie didn't move, not because the gun was pointed at her, but because it wasn't pointed at her daughter.

Not a single one of the other hostages moved either, though whether that was because of his words, sheer fear, or the fact that they were grateful he hadn't taken them was debatable.

* * *

Randy pulled the small girl, whose name he didn't know, and didn't care to, towards the door, not liking something, although he wasn't sure if it was the fact that she was close to tears, or that he was causing them.

He didn't like to hurt little girls.

But this was a necessity.

Jolting to a sudden stop in front of the beige coloured wooden door, he silently gestured towards the door with his gun, his second hand not leaving her hair.

She couldn't unlock it fast enough, even with shaking fingers, and jagged breath.

Finally it clicked, the door unlocked, and she pushed it open outwards, disappearing from his grasp almost before it was a quarter open.

She didn't even look backwards.

The door shut with a clatter, no one there to soften the noise, and he clicked it to lock again, before heading towards the phone once more.

Picking up the object from where it hung, only a few centimetres from the floor, he held it to his ear, before speaking to the man who called himself "David".

"I let a hostage go. Now get rid of SWAT. Now!" His voice almost barked by the end of the short sentence before slamming the receiver back onto the proper resting place – Randy didn't want any of them to listen in to what was happening inside the room, even if nothing noise worthy was actually happening.

Breathing steadily to try and calm himself down – to shoot each of the hostages dead might calm him down for the rest of his life – but it would be a life that only lasted about ten seconds longer.

If that.

In the corner of his eye he saw the red headed woman that had been holding the little girl so tightly, close her eyes and breathe a silent sigh of relief.

He wished he could do the same.

* * *

The sun beat down weakly above Melissa's head, but (compared to the near darkness of the last few hours with the coffee shop) it made the small girl squint, but still she could just make out the large black coloured vehicles with the words FBI emblazoned across the side in yellow.

_Daddy works with the FBI_, the small girl thought, as she headed towards the line of vehicles, _Maybe they can find him and get him to come here. He'll be able to sort _this _entire mess out in _no_ time what so ever, because he's daddy, and he can do _anything.

A slight smile graced her lips, even as she stumbled over a curb she didn't see and a pretty lady with long blonde hair and a bullet proof vest came out to lead her behind the row of big black cars.

As soon as they were "safe" (out of the way where the scary man would be able to shoot them Lissa assumed she meant), the pretty lady bent down to Melissa's level, which wasn't too low down, for even if she was a bit small for her age, she was still nine, and therefore, practically a lady already.

"Hi," she said, her tone friendly, which caused Lissa to smile in return, even as she drew into herself slightly. "My name's Jennifer. What's yours?"

She opened her mouth, "Melis..." her eyes drifted over to the crowd of agents only a few metres to their left, spotting someone _very_ familiar.

Her eyes widened as she yelled, "Daddy!" whilst running directly towards the large group of agents.

Directly towards ... Reid.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, and please review (I'd like to get six for this chapter - to take my total up to a nice round 30)**

**Mia**


	6. Safe

**I hate taking so long between updates - but schools been really hectic - homework practically triples in the jump from Yr 11 to Yr 12.**

**In other news, this is apparently my best story, with at least a thousand more hits than any other, largest amount of favourites, and more alerts on this one story than on all my others put together - and with only 2 more reviews, I'll have the most amount of reviews as well. (I love the fact that I asked for 6 reviews, and got 16 - thanks also to a guest reviewer named Sniper - my first ever review in a foreign language - it made me feel so loved!)**

**Here's Chapter Six - Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

"Reid," Emily started, having volunteered to talk to him, due to her longer knowledge of his family. "We need to talk." She winced internally at how clichéd she sounded.

"In a moment Emily, I just need to..."

"It's about the hostages." She pressed again.

"Tell Hotch, or Rossi, I really need to ..." His voice trailed off again, as he immersed himself in his work that she didn't even try to understand.

"No, Reid." She tried again, when a small voice she had grown somewhat used to yelled from only a few metres away.

"Daddy!" The small red head ran as fast as she could towards her father even as she spoke, leaving behind a slightly bewildered JJ.

She all but threw herself in her father's arms, and then buried her head in his shoulder when she became acutely aware that there were people staring.

She didn't like people staring.

Reid didn't notice much else after that – he didn't notice JJ's shocked expression, Hotch's stern, nor Rossi's slightly knowing smile. He didn't notice Morgan's small smile, Emily's sad one, nor the security on the corner of the street turn to look at the pair.

He didn't notice anything other than his little girl, safe in his arms, even if he didn't know she was in danger, as he tightened his grip, realising that her mother, his Rosie _must_ be inside that cafe – trapped with a highly dangerous murder suspect.

But he couldn't dwell on that, not at this very moment, with Lissa beginning to cry almost silently in his arms. Reid sat down, he may love his daughter with all his heart, but that didn't change the fact that she was now nine, tall for her age, and too heavy to be carrying for any length of time.

"Ydych chi'n mynd i gael Mami allan?" [_"Are you going to get mummy out?"_] The small girl asked, her voice muffled through Reid's shirt, but it would have been small anyway.

The team, bar Emily who had heard the language many times but couldn't speak it, frowned, none of them understanding what the small girl said, other than the fact that it had far too many consonants for an easy translation.

Their frowns only deepened when Reid replied. "Rydw i'n mynd i roi cynnig ar fy ngorau," [_"I'm going to try my best."_] He replied, in the same strange language.

"Reid?" Hotch asked, the first one to regain their voice. Lissa glanced up for a second, and then buried her face, barely hiding a yawn – she had been tired this morning, and after being held at gunpoint for an hour would do havoc on anyone's nerves – all she really wanted to do at this point, was curl up into a ball and sleep the sleep of the dead.

Reid paled almost imperceptibly, this was one conversation he _really_ wasn't looking forward.

"Hotch?" He replied looking down at Lissa then back at him, Lissa just staring curiously at her father's team – or at least until they noticed, at which point she would hide again, before curiosity got the better of her and she was watching again. "I can explain..." He stammered.

"Mami ddywedodd byddai hyn yn digwydd," [_"Mummy said this would happen."_] The small girl muttered into her father's shirt.

"Dawelwch," [_"Silence."_] Reid retorted, without any real inflection. "This is Melissa. My daughter."

Lissa gave a tiny wave, still running on the slight adrenaline rush that had flooded her system as she ran away from the coffee shop.

"We guessed." Hotch replied dryly. "You need to get her checked over though."

"Dim!" The small girl called, before blushing red. "I mean, no – I want to stay until mummy gets out."

Hotch nodded after a moment, "You need to stay back here though."

Lissa nodded enthusiastically, suddenly re-energized, her earlier fear dimming by the second.

"JJ," Hotch ordered, gesturing at the small red head. "Reid. We need to talk."

The younger man paled, as Lissa hid a small grin.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Pulling the blind aside at the very side, Randy glanced out of the window, glad that the large SWAT vans were moving – he really didn't want to die today – not without taking _her_ with him. Polly.

She took his daughter away; so she deserved to feel just some of the pain that had been clawing his heart since that day.

He didn't feel bad about killing those women, it was their fault for looking like her – he knew it was wrong (at least in some small corner of his mind), but it felt so _good_.

An idea formed in his mind – maybe it wouldn't be so bad, especially if he could get it to work.

* * *

Rosie kept her eyes closed.

_Lissa is safe. Lissa is safe._

She chanted over and over again inside her head, anything to keep her mind off of the current reality – she ran through every exercise she had ever been taught, and then some she hadn't been taught – exercises she had been using less and less since that fateful day when she was fifteen.

_No. Not there. Not now. Anywhere but there._ She ordered her mind. _Think of Spencer. Think of Lissa._

But images made their way in anyway, of Beth and Olivia and Georgia and Katrina and screaming and blood, so much blood.

Her eyes flew open.

_I'm sorry._ She began whispering in her mind. _I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I let you go._

A hidden tear slipped down her face, as she closed her eyes and began the mental exercises once again.

_Lissa is safe. Lissa is safe._

* * *

**Thank you for reading, and please review,  
Mia**


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